


Vulnerability

by DoeOfTheWood



Series: Wives' Tales [2]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brief mention of suicide ideation, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Could be read as platonic or romantic for both ships, Hurt/Comfort, Mourning, Multi, brief mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoeOfTheWood/pseuds/DoeOfTheWood
Summary: It would've been easy for Capable to lash out, to tear and scream and gnash her teeth at the War Boy - the symbol of Joe's army. But the War Boy didn't look like a symbol. He just looked scared.





	

"We need someone down the back," the feral said after we escaped the canyon and Joe. After...she was gone.

"I'll go," I said, grabbing the binoculars sitting next to Toast.

"No," Furiosa said. Her voice sounded...wet, like she was trying to hold back tears as well. "I want you to stay together."

"I can do it," I said, looking her square in the eyes as I wrapped the binocular strap around my wrist.

 

* * *

 

 

To be fair, I was thankful to be alone. Being in the cab, seeing Cheedo and Dag holding each other tightly, reminded me too much of Angharad. Angharad and I had been in the Vault the longest and were as close as sisters. Looking out into the fading sunset gave me some time to think, to process what had happened.

I kept seeing her face when I closed my eyes, her mouth open, her eyes surprised and pleading. But none of us were fast enough. I felt my hand grasp at her linens, but I was too late. I was just in time to see Bigfoot run over her. But Bigfoot's wheels were high, she could've survived...couldn't she?

My thoughts were interrupted by a strange noise under the makeshift seat behind me. It was like a sob, but strangled and repressed, pushed down like a Vault sob after Joe had his way with you. I turned to see a War Boy - the War Boy we threw out before the canyon - curled into a ball under the seat, his lips still shiny from chroming up.

It would've been easy to lash out, to tear and scream and gnash my teeth at the War Boy - the symbol of Joe's army that we were so desperately trying to get away from. But, just then, he didn't look like a symbol. He just looked like a scared little boy.

"What are you doing here?" I asked quietly.

"He saw it," the boy started, tears forming in his eyes. "He saw it all. My own Blood Bag driving the Rig that killed her."

 _Was he mourning Angharad as well?_ I thought as he started banging his head against the metal floor in frustration. Or was it self-punishment for crying, wasting water?

That wouldn't do him any good. I instinctively grabbed the back of his head, stroking gently. "Stop doing that." I made simple shushing noises to calm him. "Stop."

That's when he first looked at me. His eyes were the brightest, most brilliant blue I had ever seen. In them was an emotion I'd never seen in a War Boy. "Three times the gates were open to me."

He had lost me again. "What gates?"

"I was awaited in Valhalla." Oh. "They were calling my name." His eyes broke contact with mine like he suddenly remembered like he shouldn't be looking directly at me. He looked off into the corner of the cab instead. "I should be walking with the Immortan, McFeasting with the heroes of all time."

I laid down next to him, brushing my loose hairs away from my face, and thought about what Miss Giddy would say to one of us when we were upset. "I'd say it was your manifest destiny not to."

"I thought I was being spared for something great. I got to...drive a pursuit vehicle. For a while even Larry and Barry stopped chewing on my windpipe."

"Who are Larry and Barry?"

"My mates." He pointed to his shoulder where two tumors grew. It looked like he had drawn faces on them. He must've had them for a long time. "Larry and Barry. If they don't get me, then the Night Fevers will."

It was then that I realized what it was truly like to be a half-life War Boy. He always knew he was going to die soon. He was reminded of it every time he saw his reflection. He had probably never known a gentle touch for his whole life; from the minute a War Boy can walk, they are treated roughly like the battle fodder they will become. The closest thing to love they would ever feel is a rough pat on the back.

But I could change that. For this Boy, at least.

I reached out slowly, deliberately, so he wouldn't spook, and softly stroked his scarred lips. He looked at me with his brilliant blue eyes, vulnerable as he'd ever been. It hurt to look at them, to not give him some semblance of privacy, but it hurt more to look away.

The only thing that I could think to do was show some vulnerability in turn, so I thought of Angharad.

I thought of how she laughed in rare happy moments, how quietly defiant she was, how she used her position as Joe's favorite to protect us all. I thought of how on nights when the urge to end it all was too great for me, she would hold me in her bed and stroke my hair while I cried onto her shoulder. I thought of how her eyes sparkled when she told us of the deal she struck with Imperator Furiosa, sparkling blue like the War Boy's in front of me.

Before I knew it, he was mimicking my movement earlier, moving slowly to not startle me. Normally I would have jerked away, but this time all I wanted was his fingers on my lips. Instead, his fingers moved to my cheek and brushed something wet.

"You're crying," he said just above a whisper, not breaking eye contact.

"So I am," I replied. But, in seeing his concern, I knew I would be all right, eventually.

We stayed on the floor of the cab like that, binoculars forgotten, as we shared this moment of vulnerability.

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I'm going to make a one-shot for each of the Wives in Fury Road. I'll eventually write my own dialogue, I swear.


End file.
